


The Land of the Lost has a Place With the Living.

by jejeje117



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Reunions, Misunderstandings, Realm Hopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 05:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jejeje117/pseuds/jejeje117
Summary: From the moment she'd seen Hook she'd known that he was a Lost Boy, and by the look on his face he could say the same of her. She'd thought -hoped-prayed really, that Pan's land had been a figment of childhood imagination untouched by the madness of the Enchanted Forest, but here is proof that denial is a river that is only so wide.If Captain freaking Hook can park his boat in Storybrooke's harbour, that means Pan can come knocking on windows, and no amount of the Evil Queen's magic can keep him out.





	The Land of the Lost has a Place With the Living.

She'd recognised a kindred spirit from the moment she'd first seen him, slack against the restraining rope as if he'd found it a futile struggle a million times before. There was a fire in his eyes as though he dared anyone to match Pan's menace, and Emma knew it was a challenge she gave out herself. He'd looked at her consideringly, head tilted and hands far apart away from the knives in his belt, satchel and boots, waiting for reciprocation. Emma had spread her own hands in answer, disguising the action as a gesture of frustration, and the good old Captain had relaxed even when faced with an obviously hostile Mulan and co.

She paces the boardwalk with her arms crossed in her battered red leather jacket, heedless of the chill, and can't find the right words to say. _Neverland was real_ might be a good start, but even thinking about that leaves her colder than Maine's climate warrants. If only fairytales could have stayed in her head this wouldn't be a problem.

"Are you here to make an arrest?"

Hook ventures from above, and the so-called Saviour just about manages to crane her neck up to find him leaning over the railing of the Jolly Roger, teeth gleaming in the most sincere grin yet. She sighs wearily, shows her palms as a demonstration of weaponlessness at least, if not good intentions, and waits for him to do the same. It's a little horrfying, because either the language of the Lost is easier to remember than she wants to admit, or it had snuck into her everyday vocabulary without her noticing beforehand. Hook slings a belt full of throwing knives down before ahe can worry too much about it, just about giving her a heart attack because _Holy Cow_ that's more than a sign of good faith. It means he wants to even the playing field to match the Hook screwed into the stump of his hand, it means he trusts her. Is he an absolute moron?

"I save the handcuffs for those who are worth it."

She manages, but perhaps her tone is a little too dark because his answering smirk is too close to a smile, like he knows exactly who might be worth it.

"You're waiting for him?"

She slumps, just a little, equal parts angry and exhausted, to which he leans more on the railing. It's an offer to come down and help, telegraphed so much more clearly than most can manage, and she throws a grateful smile his way when she hopes he's not looking. Of course he is.

"My son would make a good Lost Boy."

She admits, voice small against the backdrop of the elements converging where land meets sea, and Hook winces in sympathy. He doesn't ask why that is so, he only looks her full in the face, all earnestness and no charm.

"Would you like some assistance in defending the lad? I may be too weighed down to fly, but I have a good eye on me for the skies."

Emma shrinks into herself, just a little, because anyone else would have laughed her out of the harbour by now and this is more than she could have hoped for. She needs to trade for it.

"I've never needed Tink's help to fly, if you want to learn a better way."

She just about manages, and the Captain stares at her in boyish wonder, leaving her too embarassed and flustered to add more. His feet meet the deck in front of her with nary a sound, his hand rests on her shoulder while his hook is pointed downwards in consideration, and she knows any outsider would get the wrong impression. But this is about flying, this is about the one freedom granted to every kid stranded on those strange shores, that Pan had tried to strip from any who'd escaped him.

"How?"

And this is venturing into dangerous territory. She won't admit to anyone that Pan hadn't been the first to try and soar away from the golden sand, nor can she gloat as she once had. Instead she grins right back at this other survivor, this kindred spirit, and wiggles her eyebrows playfully, leaning in close as though to offer a secret and return the offer of trut he'd given earlier.

"Magic." She whispers, because it always had been even if she loathes the stuff. The skip in his step is worth the admission.

______________________________

The first lesson Hook teaches her son is to keep his bedroom window locked. The discussion takes place over a table at Granny's, Ruby looking on in astonishment as Emma plants three mugs of hot chocolate on the table and takes a seat next to Henry in case the Mayor marches in, and the pirate rests his chin on his good hand and eyes the beverage suspiciously. It's Emma's way of offering something when she's worried she might not be able to voice anything to help Hook here, because he's had a century away from those lands while she herself has not.

Henry beams at her having picked up on her unease, and he takes the cinamon shaker to liberally dust all three of the drinks, much to Hook's confusion. It has to be said, the spice look's rather like a dust that no half sane Native had gone near unless they actually wanted an out of body experience.

"It's cinamon, it's not made from Cold Snapper bone."

The man's shoulders come down a fraction, and he takes the drink gratefully, peering over the rim of it at one very excited kid.

"He doesn't seem like the right type."

He says lowly in her direction, eyebrows raised in curiosity, and Emma draws in the dust her son has left on the table while she answers.

"The Evil Queen is proving a very good mother."

She finally caves, resignation written in the set of her mouth, and Hook leaves it there mercifully.

"So, I hear you have learned many a fanciful tale to help you on your quests. Have you heard mine before?"

Emma very nearly chokes on her chocolate, because he'd paid him enough for vague warnings about Pan's possessieness and penchant for stealing kids, not a personal damned story. He's leaving her indebted to him, and yet he hasn't shown any indication of claiming that win.

"Your books paint these people in very good light, but I'm ashamed to say, we don't all live up to those standards."

Henry doesn't quite get the memo. He's so excited about strange and wonderful worlds that he clearly doesn't pay attention to a word of warning, even if Ruby and Granny most definitely are hearing the same conversation and noting what they need to. Emma watches the naive brat wax poetic about the sea of sparking sorrows before she slams her cup down abruptly and butts in.

"Kid, hold your horses."

He pauses for breath, reasy to carry on at a moments notice.

"Neverland is not like Ibetha or Australia, okay? It's a magical island that Pan took over. Do you know how it was made?"

He shakes his head, as does Hook, and Emma struggles not to curl in on herself.

"The very first lost kid had...a lot of magic. She needed somewhere to go when she got hurt, so she went somewhere. That somewhere was literally composed of her worst memories, but while it belonged to her, she could keep that in check. Along came Pan. And he took it, and he didn't want to keep it safe. Do you understand?"

He doesn't, she can see. Fuck.

"That sea you love? The instant you dip a toe into it, you are drowned in those memories. For every sip you take from the river that runs from it, you lose a moment of remembered happiness. The Natives use it as a dreamcatcher for their nightmares because they can't make it any worse. The glorious golden shore is made up of broken pieces of lost children, where they've fought and bled and died, with a crimson river tracking from where Ice Eyes made his last stand-"

This is getting too dark for him. She rests her head in her hands and say instead.

"Pan is not a child, he is not your friend. He takes every Lost Boy he can find because for every time they've suffered, Neverland grows. His hold on it grows. If he knocks on your window in the middle of the night it is because he knows that he is not welcome, not because he wants to invite you on an adventure. Don't open your window, not for anythong, okay kid?"

Hook doesn't ask, but she finds a dreamcatcher in Mary-Margaret's letterbox, just like the ones Tiger Lilly wold offer during the bad times.

___________________________

"Pan needs Fey help to fly."

Emma lets her voice carry up to the deck of the Jolly Roger as she walks past.

"He's never been light enough, or bright enough, or just enough to do it himself."

Hook is hooked, inches from her face before she realises he's there, and before she can second guess herself she takes his arms and lifts him. It is good timing on her part that this night is so dark and Leroy isn't watching the docks. He remembers enough not to flail, and then he becomes less of a dead weight. Flying has alway been less about plotting this course or that course and more about living in the moment, casting off the shackles of trepidation and cancelling out the pull of gravity with something less heavy. 

It's nice, to give someone this gift. _Freedom._

"Swan!" 

The allegedly fearsome pirate manages as she releases him, and then he says it again with a touch of reverence because he doesn't hurtle down towards the waves beneath. He smiles so hard it nearly splits his face in two, pitches himself forward and rockets towards her with the grace of a natural. The race is on.

"How can I repay you?"

He vocalises once their feet are safely on the ground, and Emma knows better than anyone that a Lost One can never stand to be in debt, not after Pan. So she grins caught up in the leftover euphoria, and pats him on the more dangerous arm.

"Just keep a lookout for him, would you?"

He does, but as it turns out that is not enough. Not with Mr Gold in town.

____________________________

Granny's is, as ever, the favoured place for a confrontation. The old woman herself looks on a little incredulously from behind the relative safety of the counter as the Evil Queen storms past the few dedicated customers to buy a coffee at seven in the morning and throws her magic forward to wrap it aroud Emma's throat while slamming the blonde into the wall above her chair.

"Where. Is. My. Son."

Emma's heart nearly stops, and she relaxes in the Witch's force-grip as sheer disbelief overtakes her. She searches the other mother's face for any pretense, any lie, and when her inbuilt detector doesn't ping she completely slumps.

"Don't think I haven't seen your theiving little friend skulking around my house at night! Where have you taken Henry?"

She sucks in as much of a breath as she can to fuel her words and grits out the truth.

"Hook was on lookout. He wasn't casing the place. Was his window open?"

The incredulousness is a tad insulting, but Emma forges on regardless.

"Was his bedroom window open?"

Regina scoffs, rolls her eyes for effect, and drops the precious Savior onto her arse before deigning to reply.

"Of course it was!"

And Emma holds herelf very, very still for a moment before letting loose a littany of oaths fit for any pirate's mouth and punching the wall hard enough that her hand audibly cracks. She shoves on her jacket, tosses the money onto the table and brushes past the Queen with too much intent for her present company to miss. She dodges the hand that tries to clamp down on her arm, and the magic consequently thrown at her is brushed off with no effect.

"Where is he, Swan?"

She throws back the answer before she can change her mindabout the woman.

"Neverland, by now."

________________________________

"How are we supposed to reach this Neverland? Isn't it another realm? How did this Pan kid even get here?"

Emma rumbles impatiently, but Hook has his legs up on the kitchen table to telegraph his cimplete unwillingness to get involved with so many irate parents. She herself can't believe she's in this situation, but she fields that one anyway.

"Pan is a prick who's too full of himself to actually fly, so he uses his shadow, and this shadow doesn't pay attention to things like border lines or the barriers between realms. Neverland is not a whole other freaking realm, it's just a part of one."

Mary-Margaret takes point, facing her daughter who clearly knows more about this than what's been mentioned of her past belays, and the crossed arms and stubborn expression don't leave much room for evasiveness.

"It's built of imagination, because it was created by imagination and a fuck ton of unrecognised, unharnessed magic, okay? So Pan collects all the Lost kids with a bit of a brain and uses them to increase his territory and his claim. Given that the place is a hellhole, Lost kids go mising a lot, so the turnover rate is pretty high."

"And how do you know this?"

Emma restains herself from squirming and scowls at her father defensively.

"Because of every poor fucker who's ever been on that island, only two Lost Ones hve ever made it off and remembered. The boy who grew up, and the Creator."

Hook's eyes widen comically as he gapes at her, and how he never realised is beyond her but he certainly has now. He breaks in before one of the others can change track.

"Why would the Creator be scared of Pan?"

Isn't that the million dollar question? Emma smiles oh-so sweetly at the captain.

"Because in order to steal that Hell from her, he had to torture her for about two-thirds of his damned reign, and leave her with the most debilitating curse his pea-sized brain could manage."

There's concern there, she can see it.

"What curse? Has it been broken?"

She grins so savagely that the Evil Queen herself looks somewhat impressed, but answering would do noone any good, so she turns to Gold.

"To get to the place, you either need to hitch a ride on the Shadow, or tag along with the Creator. I hear the other survivor used one of Jack's beans and an enchanted ship, but Pan's shored up his defences since."

"Why would this Creator go back there?"

Mary-Margaret broaches, and it's a little pitiful how willfully ignorant she can be sometimes.

"Saving her son might be a decent incentive."

She smiles tightly, and starts walking before they can ask too much. Her magic sparks in her with enough force to scorch her innards, just as furious as she is and twice as potent with her reusal to use it fot so long, and she directs the poison before it can cause any more harm than needs be. The resulting portal in the doorway of her mother's apartment is blindingly bright, and within it is quite clearly the shore of the Sea of Sorrows. she glances askance at Hook as she moves iving him an out, but he only slings his coat back on and rises to meet her.

__________________________________

"How much magic do you have?"

The Captain murmers beside her, and Emma can only shrug. When their other companions start as if they won't take that for an answer, she relents.

"It's a jigsaw puzzle, it was built piece by piece, during the worst of times. See? This shore was more compact at first, and sorrows were slung into the sea until it wa changed beyond recognition. It's been lengthened by Lost Ones."

"And the mountain?"

"It's not a mountain. It's a volcano."

"Is it going to blow?"

And that's a small victory she can admit to.

"Pan doesn't know how to make it happen, and it's too messy a business to bear repeating. It created the valley of glass you see."

"Is that what Henry is for? To make it blow?"

How naive.

"Henry was taken as bait."

The Evil Queen stares at her like she's particularly moronic.

"And you didn't hesitate to take that bait?"

Emma laughs a little bitterly, Hook's one hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

"There is nothing more he can do. And I have enough in me to fight my curse for another two days, which is plenty of time."

"Is it a binding curse?"

"He bound me to the sea, so that I may never set foot on dry land again. Lucky for me, there are a great many loopholes."

Hook sends a questioning glance her way, and there's no underlying intent behind it, only simple curiosity. She sighs a little.

"There are many shores that meet the sea. And I can fly."

Fair enough, he seems to say, so she leaves it at that. Her parent's aren't so considerate.

"What does it do? How does it work?"

Even Regina looks sympthetic, in the right light. 

"It hurts."

That's all they will get out of her, but maybe it will give them some idea of the bastard they're dealing with.

_________________________________

Henry is just fine, because even if Pan is playing at owning the place Neverland has never forgotten Emma and her blood. No thorns imbibed with dreamshade have broken through his skin, no taint from the River of Relentlessness has stained his feet, there's only a dusting of leaves in his birds nest of a head of hair, a parting gift from the great oak once used for a treehouse.

Emma allows herself a brief moment of surrender so the island, for all the blood that Pan has spilt on it, can reach out to her in a way that her parents have yet to manage. For the span of a few heartbeats she can feel every chunk of gravel and blade of glass her younger self had crafted so carefully, and every inch of her haven screams reassurance. It is then that her magic boils up inside of her like the magma lurking beneath her feet and sets every cell in her body ablaze. She focuses on the good, and she's sure none of it shows on her face, but perhaps the set of her shoulders gives her away to the only other member of the group with her kind of experience because Hook tenses right up along with her.

She's not screaming, though. And besides, this time she has help. Even the Dark One himself has admitted his folly in letting his father into Storybrooke for a quick catch-up, and the Crocodile's teeth are bared at Emma's enemy.


End file.
